


Questioning

by xxMad_Donaxx



Series: Kitty [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kitty!Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Anders open up to each other after Kitty is discovered to actually be Fenris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been sort of a rough week. I don't expect this to get too long but figured I'd post it in chapters anyway. This is just the beginning but it's all I have at the moment. My rough week has interfered with writing so I figured something is better than nothing. Argh...I'm rambling.
> 
> The rating is for mentions of past abuse but there's nothing icky in this part. I'll try to post appropriate trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

It was early morning in Kirkwall, just over a week had passed since his secret had been revealed. Fenris had spent every night since at the clinic and often felt no pressing need to hurry out. Last night had been a little different however. The clinic door had been open enough that Kitty could push it open but Anders was not within. He’d found a note on the desk instead. Because of Hawke’s lessons, he was able to read enough of it to fill in the blanks.

The mage hadn’t written where he was at, only that he’d be back very late and Fenris could stay or go if he wished. He had chosen to stay and, after shutting and locking the door, had made himself comfortable on one of the cots. The sound of the door had woken him some time later and he’d watched Anders shuffle in after locking it again. Fenris had mewed softly and Anders had sat next to him, giving him a brief scratch behind the ears before removing his coat and boots.

There had been no explanations then and Fenris didn’t honestly want one. They had gone to sleep as usual if a little quicker than usual. Normal mornings involved a tiny bit of laziness as they woke but Anders opened the clinic soon after. Fenris was free to leave whenever he wanted and normally did so soon after the clinic was open. Lately he found himself lingering until the mage was thoroughly distracted with patients.

This morning was proving to be a bit different as well. After their brief morning affections, instead of putting his boots on, Anders had filled his basin with water. It was heated while Fenris watched him curiously from the end of a cot. The mage had never been particularly shy about his body, just careful not to let others see his back. He wasn’t at all shy now as he stripped out of his clothes, gathering a wash cloth and his soap beforehand.

If he was at all bothered by his audience of one, Anders didn’t show it. Fenris remained on the cot, watching as the mage lathered with the soap and rinsed with the cloth. He knew that he could leave at any time. It was a simple matter of changing to his elven form and slipping out the door. It was the scars that kept him rooted to the cot. He saw that they did indeed continue from his back, over his buttocks to the very top of his thighs. Fenris sat, his tail curled around his feet, watching the mage wash as he thought.

None of what Fenris had seen and been told had been spoken of over the last week. All the scars and his fear in the holding cell had been plaguing Fenris’ thoughts though. Only slaves were treated that badly. Mage slaves were treated no differently than any other with the exception of those who could heal. Healing was a rare art in Tevinter and the slaves who could heal were often treated marginally better.

It was difficult to see a Circle mage treated in such a fashion. Templars in Tevinter were essentially useless. A magister being whipped repeatedly was simply unheard of. They died in duels, fell to assassins or were taken over by their demons but never whipped like a rebellious slave.

Fenris had known the Circle of Magi was different in the rest of Thedas. The Templars actually controlled and watched the mages. They were fed, clothed, housed, and provided for in every way. Fenris had thought them pampered…spoiled. Anders had to be exaggerating. The raised scars all over his back proved that he was not. What other things had the mage been subjected to? What abuses against others had he witnessed?

He found himself thinking about every argument he’d had with Anders. There was proof of some of his claims under the thin material of the shirt he wore. So why didn’t the mage let anyone see them? He hadn’t seemed ashamed of the scars, then or now, so why were they carefully hidden? Fenris decided suddenly that he really wanted to know. Anders had finished his wash and was pulling up a clean pair of trousers over damp skin when Fenris changed. He sat on the end of the cot, legs crossed under him and forearms resting on his knees.

“Why do you hide the scars?” Fenris asked quietly.

Anders turned, seemingly unsurprised by Fenris’ appearance, as he was pulling the laces tight on his trousers. “How many would believe me?” he said calmly. “How many would shrug and say I probably deserved it? How much of what I do now would fall on deaf ears because they would assume I simply want vengeance? Not that anything I’ve done had made a bit of difference.”

The last was spoken bitterly with a vicious pull at the knot he was tying. Fenris met his gaze and said, “Isn’t it?”

“No,” Anders said coldly. “It isn’t.” He paused to pull on his shirt and continued as he settled it on his shoulders, pulling it down with a tug that was more forceful than necessary. “It’s about mages not being tried and judged for something we have no control over. I didn’t choose to be a mage, I was born that way and I have suffered for it most of my life.”

“It was not my intention to begin another argument,” said Fenris as calmly as he could. “I merely wish to understand. None of our friends would doubt your word and others might believe.”

“Sebastian would doubt,” said Anders sitting on the cot directly across from him. “If it weren’t for Hawke, he probably would have turned both Merrill and I over to the Templars by now. I’m…honestly a little surprised that you never did.”

“I said that I would watch and I have. Magic has its uses but not all are strong enough to resist temptation. The witch didn’t resist. Even you didn’t resist when offered power.” Fenris held up a hand, stalling an angry retort. “Please allow me to finish.”

Anders took a deep breath and nodded after a moment. Fenris met his still angry gaze with a calm one.

“She is unlike any blood mage I’ve seen. She uses none but her own. I have seen countless magisters drain their slaves. Watched as Danarius bled a little boy to death to fuel a parlor trick. We both saw what was done to Hawke’s mother. We fight blood mages on a near daily basis and they do not hesitate to use the life of their compatriots to try and save their own. She may be stupid but she has scruples.”

“And me?” asked Anders looking calmer than he had before.

“I don’t understand you. You live among the wretched, save their lives for nothing in return. You have kept Hawke and the rest of us alive countless times with your magic yet you have never turned it upon Sebastian and I in anger no matter how furious we’ve made you. I have never understood what has driven me back here night after night. Even when you knew that Kitty was not just a stray you allowed me to come and go as I pleased. You kept your knowledge of my ability a secret. And yet…”

“I’m an abomination,” he finished quietly after a short pause. Anders leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees and clasped his hands between them. His gaze seemed locked on the floor as he continued. “I wasn’t always so…selfless. After I became a Warden, I was the healer of the odd little group the Commander had collected. For them, I did much the same thing as I do for Hawke. I didn’t care about the Circle as long as I wasn’t anywhere near it.”

“What happened?” Fenris asked curiously. He couldn’t picture Anders being anything but far too giving of himself and very loud about how unjust the Circle was.

“Justice,” said Anders with a wry little smile. “And before you ask this joining wasn’t forced on me. It would take too long to tell you the whole story right now but he had become trapped outside of the Fade in the corpse of a Grey Warden. The Commander allowed him to stay with us. There were some things he struggled with, things he found beautiful…but at his core only justice, the concept, really mattered. He asked me once, why I didn’t do more to help my fellow mages. I gave him a flippant answer then but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“One question changed your entire life,” Fenris said thoughtfully. “That’s not very different from my own path to Kirkwall. My escape was an accident. I was left behind. There was no room on the ship for…possessions. I was lost without him.”

“Lost?” said Anders with a puzzled expression. “You’re always so…vehement about your freedom.”

“It was not always so,” said Fenris. “I have done many terrible things at his command. Perhaps I will speak more of that…but not at the moment. Let us return to my original question. Did you allow your Warden companions to see the scars?”

A troubled look crossed Anders’ face for a moment before he nodded. “Yes, most of them. I didn’t care at all who saw them then. I got just about every reaction you can think of. I don’t want pity or even sympathy, I don’t want people to look at me like I’ve done something to deserve it because I didn’t. I just wanted to be free…”

“It seems you have paid a heavy price,” Fenris said softly.

“You’ve no idea…” said Anders shaking his head. “I really should open the clinic.”

“Another time perhaps?” asked Fenris stretching as he stood.

“Perhaps,” Anders said smiling. “It’s sort of nice to talk without wanting to kill each other.”

“It is,” said Fenris also smiling. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“See you tonight then?” asked Anders pulling one of his boots on.

“Unless Hawke has other plans,” Fenris answered. They shared a smirk and Fenris left, both of them thinking deeply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to abuse and rape/non-con.

Anders lay on the floor of his clinic, a blanket folded beneath him, a few days later. The only clothing the mage wore was his trousers. Fenris had doffed his armor and sat on his knees astride Anders’ thighs. He was currently turning the mage beneath him into a very relaxed puddle. Anders wouldn’t say how his back had become a mess of knotted muscles but he seemed fairly embarrassed about it.

“You’re very good at this,” Anders mumbled contentedly after a while.

“I have many unorthodox skills,” he replied absently. Most of his attention was focused on helping loosen the muscles without hurting. Even the scars that littered Anders’ back didn’t distract him from this task.

“Like?” Anders asked curiously.

“I know the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork,” Fenris said after a moment. He moved off of Anders’ thighs and sat with his legs crossed beside him. “I can pour a perfect glass of wine. I know how to play a flute. I also know several ways to kill or cripple a man without a blade or the markings.”

“That’s…disturbing,” said Anders rolling to his side with a small frown. “I thought you were just a bodyguard.”

“I was whatever he wanted me to be,” Fenris said calmly. “Bodyguard, personal attendant, entertainment, pet, spy, assassin…the list goes on and on.”

Anders’ frown deepened and he sat up carefully and stretched. “Thank you Fenris,” he said quietly.

“You are welcome,” he said with a small smile.

It was returned and Anders gingerly got to his feet. He waited a moment to see if the mage would ask any more questions but he seemed done for the moment. As it was a little late Fenris wasn’t entirely surprised. He shifted forms and stepped off the blanket, sitting with his tail wrapped around himself waiting patiently as the blanket was lifted and shook out. Fenris followed him to a cot and jumped up when he sat.

Now lying on his bare chest Fenris wasn’t thinking of much, just enjoying the fingers running through his fur. His eyes were mostly shut, his rumbling purr the only sound in the quiet clinic. He lay on his tummy, front paws tucked under his chest and his tail wrapped around him. Anders’ hands didn’t still when he began speaking after a while.

“There’s a place in the arling of Amaranthine called Blackmarsh,” said Anders evenly. Fenris opened his eyes and saw that he was staring at the ceiling. “It’s a truly dismal place. The veil is thin there. It was rumored to be haunted, the village that had been there. No one truly knew what happened to them. The Commander, Oghren, Nathaniel and I went there to investigate the disappearance of an Orlesian Warden. We found him dead and were pulled forcibly into the Fade by a sentient talking Darkspawn that was caught in the trap as well.”

Fenris mewed quietly in not quite disbelief. Darkspawn were mindless destroyers, only organized during a blight because the archdemon led them. The very idea that there had been one able to speak let alone plan a trap was laughable at best. Fenris knew that Anders rarely lied however.

Anders looked at him, a smirk pulling the corners of his mouth up. “Ludicrous I know,” he said sounding amused. “Maker’s honest truth though. We discovered what had happened to the villagers while we were looking for a way back. There was a woman, a very powerful blood mage. She did horrible things to them…their children. They burned her house down while she slept and she pulled the entire village into the Fade with her. She kept them trapped there for who knows how long. Justice was there, trying to free them.”

He shifted to his side when the mage paused, stretching his legs but watching his face intently. The end of his tail flicked restlessly as Anders laced his fingers beneath his head and continued.

“We helped him fight the mage and the Darkspawn,” Anders said meeting his gaze. “She used its blood when our victory was assured…pulled all of us back to the Blackmarsh. Justice was caught in the spell…he ended up possessing the body of our lost Orlesian warden. We had to fix the rips she’d caused, with Justice’s help. We also had to destroy her again…bloody pride demon. Justice came back to the Vigil with us.”

Fenris stood and padded carefully down Anders’ body to the cot. Anders sat and crossed his legs, scooting back to the other end. He shifted forms and asked curiously, “Couldn’t you send him back?”

“None of us knew how we’d been pulled into or out of the Fade,” said Anders shaking his head. “Some mage wardens aren’t shy about using blood magic but the Commander disliked it as much as I do. Even if we knew that there was no guarantee that Justice would leave Kristoff’s corpse here. He was trapped. He still is trapped.”

“Did he see the scars?” Fenris asked after a moment.

“Yes,” said Anders smiling a little. “His was the most…unique…reaction I’ve ever gotten. He was curious at first. Asked me how I’d gotten so many scars so I told him. He walked away from that conversation a little more puzzled than he’d began it. We didn’t get on that well to start with. I think he must have gone to the Commander, asked him about the circle. He came back to me a few days later and asked what I’d done to be punished so severely. Justice was almost outraged. He then railed at me for enslaving my cat.”

Anders smiled and Fenris chuckled a little. He would have never guessed that he would be sitting in the mage’s home calmly discussing his demon. Fenris only knew him after. By his own admission he’d been selfish but he was a healer. Most healers he’d known were content with their lot. What had made this one seek aid from a demon?

“Why?” Fenris asked into the silence that had fallen.

He sighed and turned his gaze to his lap. “I know this isn’t your favorite subject,” Anders said softly. “How many mages get raped by the Templars who don’t go to the Rose? How many get beaten just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? How many others did Gregior sentence to solitary to be whipped and used until they finally gave in? Even with the Wardens I wasn’t truly free. A Templar was recruited and it was just like being back at Kinloch. He was always there, sneering, waiting for me to make a mistake. Justice made me think but Rolan made me realize that unless something changes mages will always be oppressed. When Justice approached me…I accepted because _someone must do something._ ”

“Tevinter is not an answer,” Fenris said firmly.

“I don’t want to rule anything Fenris,” Anders said sadly. “I just want to help people. I want a life without needing to look over my shoulder constantly. Without the constant fear.”

“I believe you,” said Fenris looking down at his lap. “Danarius could change my form whenever he wished. I learned after I’d escaped. He often turned me into Kitty, lead me around the manor on a leash, forced me to sit in his lap…whatever else his whims demanded. You have never forced Kitty into anything. You let me come and go…didn’t reveal my secret…but how many others would simply seek to use me as he did?”

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

Fenris nodded and shifted forms. He watched as Anders slid back down and waited as he pulled a blanket over himself. Carefully he padded up his body and settled in his usual spot. They both lay awake for a long time, lost in thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris pushed the door of the clinic open with a foot and moved one of the two wine bottles he carried to the crook of an arm. He turned to shut and lock the door and turned again to see Anders watching him with an eyebrow quirked up.

“Wine?” he said questioningly.

“Not from the Hanged Man,” Fenris replied seriously with a small smile.

“It might be drinkable then,” Anders said smiling as he stood. “Is this a special occasion?”

“It is,” he said following the mage to one of the cots. Fenris sat with his legs crossed and handed one of the bottles to Anders. He uncorked his bottle, tossing it to one of the nearby cots, and took a long pull from it. “Eight years ago I was left on Seheron.”

“The anniversary of your escape,” said Anders as he sat on the opposite end of the cot, also with his legs crossed. He pulled the cork, tossed it to the same cot and held the bottle out. “Cheers.”

Fenris held his bottle out as well and took another long pull. Anders also drank, though not as deeply as he did. “Mmm,” he hummed appreciatively. “Sweet.” The mage smacked his lips and took another sip before continuing. “So how did it happen?”

“The magisters and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries,” Fenris began. “We were caught in a battle and I got him to a ship but I was forced to remain on shore. I barely escaped the city alive. As I said before…I was lost without him.”

“Did you find your way aboard a different ship?” he asked quietly.

“No,” said Fenris looking at his lap briefly. He took a long drink and met Anders’ curious gaze. “One of the native tribes that live in the jungles found me. They took me in…nursed me back to health and…I lived. The Fog Warriors…they were free with their affections, fierce and loyal. It seemed…idyllic…like I’d been dreaming for months.”

“What happened when he returned?” said Anders after settling the wine bottle in his lap.

“He demanded…they refused.” Fenris took several long swallows and leaned forward slightly, staring at the empty cot between them before continuing. “He ordered me to kill them…so I did.”

“Maker Fenris.”

Fenris looked up sharply at the horror in his voice. There was something else however that he couldn’t place. Anders had the wine bottle at his lips and he watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob several times before it was finally lowered. There had been horror in his voice but his face was haunted.

“Danarius was hurt in the fighting,” Fenris continued feeling a bit confused. “That’s when I ran. It took him weeks to properly mount a chase…but I was long gone.”

“I won’t claim to understand completely,” Anders said after a moment. He paused and took another long swig from the bottle. Their eyes met briefly before Anders looked down at the cot. “Ella…and Karl before her…that wasn’t the first time I…lost control. Rolan followed us. Brought a bunch of his Templar buddies as well as wardens. I blacked out…but I came too covered in blood. All of them…the wardens the Templars…all of them dead. So much blood…in my mouth and my hair…under my fingernails…” He shuddered as his voice trailed off.

“Do you regret?” Fenris asked quietly.

“There are many things I regret,” Anders answered softly. “I don’t regret joining…but I do regret killing them. I’d known some of them…we should have been more careful. Made sure we weren’t followed or fled first then joined…some of them might still be alive if we had.”

“I regret,” said Fenris flatly. “They showed me only kindness and I repaid them with death.”

“What a pair we are,” said Anders wryly. “Come on, let’s go in the back and drown our regrets.” He stood and wobbled on unsteady legs, leaning over to grip the cot. “It’s a little stronger than I’d thought.”

Fenris chuckled as he stood. He supported the mage and they weaved their way to the back of the clinic, both of them still clutching the bottles of wine tightly. “Have you ever seen a drunken cat?”

“No,” he answered after a moment of thought. “I don’t believe so.”

“I’m told it was entertaining.”

***

Anders woke him with a loud groan and Fenris flattened his ears against his head, mewing in protest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Your head hurts as much as mine does I take it.”

Fenris mewed again and flicked his tail once.

“I don’t suppose you remember how we got to Hawke’s estate?”

He did but Fenris didn’t feel like moving. His tail flicked and he yawned, stretching his legs but remained on his side atop the mage’s chest.

“Good idea,” Anders said throwing an arm over his eyes to blot out the sunlight that was pouring in through a window.

Fenris hadn’t set out last night to get them both completely sloshed but that’s what had happened. After the initial bottle was gone Anders had coaxed him out of the clinic for another. They had stumbled around for a while from one bar to another getting drunker until they had ended up at the Hanged Man. It had been late to start with and by that time it was very late. Hawke had been there however. Whether he brought them home out of pity or the sheer novelty of Anders being extremely drunk, he didn’t know and didn’t really care.

The reason they had begun drinking in the first place had been carefully avoided. Fenris couldn’t help think about it now as he wished his head would stop pounding. It seemed their lives were very similar. Their tormentors were different groups but comparable in the abuses that had been heaped unfairly upon them.

“You know Fenris,” Anders said contemplatively. “We’re more alike than different. Anything I tell you…I’ll bet you have a similar matching experience.”

Fenris cautiously rolled to his stomach, a little amused by their matching trains of thought, and crawled forward slowly. He stopped with his head under Anders’ chin, rubbing briefly as he mewed in agreement.

“I can take the edge off if you like,” said Anders softly.

Fingers were slowly moving along his back. Fenris butted his chin softly and stood with great care. He moved to the unoccupied side of the bed and flopped down on his side before shifting forms. “Yes please,” he said flatly. Anders shifted slightly beside him and he felt the soothing burst of healing. He sighed in relief as the mage sunk back down to the bed beside him. “Would you care to test your theory?”

“I would actually,” Anders said thoughtfully. “It can wait until tomorrow or whenever though. Do you think Hawke would feed us?”

“I believe that there is a good possibility of that,” Fenris said sitting up.

“I hope so…I’m starved.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ungodly wait. I'll really try to do better with the next chapter. This and likely the several after will be rather short. 
> 
> There's nothing very triggery in this chapter, just some general things.

Fenris had thought for most of the day and was ready to test Anders’ theory. He arrived at the clinic a little earlier than usual and found the mage at his desk, the quill running along his jaw while he sat lost in thought. Anders turned immediately at his entrance and smiled a little.

“You’re a bit early,” he said as he stood. Anders moved to the nearest cot and sat at one end, gesturing for him to sit at the other. “I’ve been thinking all day.”

“I have been as well,” Fenris replied. He turned briefly to lock the door and sat with his legs crossed on the cot. “It will not be easy…but I would like to begin.”

“It’s not going to be easy for me either,” Anders said looking down for a moment. “Let’s start slow, general things.” Fenris nodded his agreement and Anders took a deep breath before he continued. “Mages have very little privacy. Apprentices have almost none. We slept in a large room with thirty others; they didn’t even bother separating us by gender. It’s a little better after you’re harrowed but not by much. You share a room with three others. There are walls between the rooms but nothing where a door should have been.”

“The house slaves, servants, cooks, maids, have similar sleeping arrangements to your apprentices,” said Fenris after a moment of thought. “One room with several pallets. They sleep in shifts so that their Master is always catered to no matter the time of day. If the slave is favored or has a special role, such as healers, they might be given a room. Usually little more than a cell with narrow windows and a door that cannot be unlocked from the inside.”

“What about you?” he asked curiously. “You said before you were whatever he wanted you to be.”

“I slept at the foot of his bed. In this form more often than not. Sometimes, when I had angered or embarrassed him somehow, he’d turn me into Kitty and tie the leash to the bed so that I had to stand all night or choke to death on my collar.”

Anders grimaced and shook his head a little. “Some winters it felt like we’d freeze to death in that drafty tower. I spent many nights huddled with another apprentice under both of our blankets shivering.”

“Slaves aren’t encouraged to be too friendly with one another.”

“Physically or just friends friendly?”

“The former, it depends on the owner. Some preferred their slaves to procreate. Danarius was a frequent…business partner of a magister who claimed it created slaves who were more obedient and loyal. Others, like Danarius, would control everything. The latter…let’s just say currying favor is not strictly limited to mages.”

“I know the type,” said Anders disgustedly. “The people who will report anything they see hoping to keep themselves from the scrutiny.”

“It sounds as if you’ve ran afoul of one.”

“I was thirteen or fourteen. I’d been sneaking extra food from the kitchens before bed because it seemed like I was always starving. My bunkmate told them I was always late to bed. That was the first time I had to scrub every stair in that stupid tower. I learned to be a little sneakier after that.”

“I was avoided. It is not uncommon for slaves to pander to the favorites. It’s just as likely for favorites to be hated. They were as frightened of me as they were of displeasing Danarius.”

“Always alone,” Anders said softly. “After a few escapes I was watched more than the others. Some of them wouldn’t associate with me. It didn’t stop most of them from…seeking comfort but…there were very few people I’d call friends. Karl mainly…but he was transferred.”

“The mage Hawke tried to help you…rescue?”

“Yes,” he said in a strained whisper.

Even though Fenris hadn’t been among them he knew what had happened. Anders was looking at the cot, hands gripping his knees tightly. This man must have been very important to evoke such emotion all these years later. Rather than continue the conversation and bring up more painful memories, Fenris shifted forms. He didn’t really want to admit he was a touch shaken by his memories either.

He padded forward silently and sat between the mage’s thighs, looking up to see his eyes shut. Fenris turned and with his forepaws on one thigh, he rubbed a cheek against his arm. Anders moved slowly, picking him up carefully. Tucked securely in his embrace, the mage kissed his cheek and stood. Fingers moved restlessly along his side as he moved around the clinic putting out the lanterns. He moved unerringly through the dark clinic to their cot, lying back, his hands moving through soft fur until Fenris began purring.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: abuse, excessive cruelty, body deformation and once more implied rape if you squint**

A week had passed before they found themselves on opposite ends of a cot ready to talk.

“I have no memory from before the ritual,” Fenris began. “The recovery was excruciating. Constant pain, learning to use the lyrium through it. Danarius was my only source of comfort. All the others were terrified of me…with good reason. I remember the first time I was made to punish one of them. She had dropped a full bottle of red wine. He was furious. The light colored rug was completely ruined. Her punishment was a hundred lashes.”

“For dropping a bottle of wine?” Anders said in horror. “Dear Maker…”

“Danarius was brutal. I broke every finger on a man’s hand for…being too familiar. The slave brushed against him at a party.”

“Some Templars were like that,” said Anders quietly. “One apprentice I knew…he was clumsy. He tripped into one of the more volatile Templars. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, I saw him in the infirmary, but he was black and blue all over. I managed to avoid the worst of them.”

“You don’t seem the type to be silent.”

“I wasn’t. I learned which ones I could push and which ones to stay away from. I was a trouble maker but most thought I was harmless.”

Fenris snorted and shook his head. Anders smirked and leaned forward.

“You forget I was a different man. Yes I was angry. Yes I hated what was done to us. I found ways to endure the Circle and draw attention away from myself when necessary. It was after the…third escape…no, the fourth that they started watching me closely. Before that my punishments were creative. Afterwards they were cruel.”

“Most punishments I endured were both. I was the only person that had survived the lyrium ritual and causing physical harm to his investment wasn’t allowed, much to Hadriana’s displeasure. In many ways she was crueler than Danarius.”

“What did she do?”

“Slaves were playthings to her. Hadriana bled many to impress higher ranking magisters. Those that offended her became experiment subjects. A body slave was castrated and given to the soldiers for not performing well enough. Danarius not only permitted these atrocities he encouraged them. She wasn’t allowed to so much as touch me however. Hadriana delighted in prodding me awake with a stick. She frequently denied my meals. Never enough to affect my performance and draw Danarius’ ire however.”

Anders shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself. “That’s horrible,” he whispered.

“The worst punishment I endured was for failure to get information from a rival. I was given to Hadriana for two weeks. There was to be no scarring or lasting damage of any sort…other than that…” Fenris shut his eyes and pushed away the memories. “It was unpleasant.”

“The year in solitary,” Anders said softly with a faraway look. “After they figured out pain wouldn’t push me into the arms of demons they tried to slowly starve me. I received two meals a day but they made sure one of them was inedible. I was well on my way to becoming an invalid by the time they let me out of that…hole.”

Fenris watched him shudder. He understood fully and shifted forms. Anders smiled slightly and extended his hand. Fenris pushed his head against it, seeking comfort as well as giving it. They spent longer than usual that night exchanging affections. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really horrible in this chapter.

Fenris sat on the edge of a cot, his armor pieces in a neat pile next to him, sword lying on the cot behind him. Anders stood to his right, hands hovering over his aching shoulder. He frowned, deep in concentration, hands glowing with magic. Gradually the ache receded and Fenris sighed in relief. An excursion to the Bone Pit with Hawke had left him a little worse for wear.

“There,” Anders said softly as he straightened. “Feel better?”

“It does,” Fenris said gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Take it easy for a few days,” he said sitting on the cot opposite him. Anders glanced down at the floor as Fenris rolled his shoulders and continued contemplatively, “Can I ask you something about Danarius?”

Only a couple of days had passed since their last conversation. Fenris scooted further back on the cot and said quietly, “Yes.”

“You said that he was your only source of comfort,” said Anders cautiously. “Could you explain that?”

“I was isolated right after the ritual,” Fenris said after a moment. “I remember Danarius and the house healer but no others. It was after I’d learned how to use the markings that I was…displayed. His grand achievement. Most of my abilities were demonstrated at a grand celebration. That very night the rest of the slaves were terrified of me. He was the only one in the household who wasn’t aside from Hadriana. Pleasing him…it was the only thing that mattered.”

“Just from what little you’ve told me, he was also your greatest source of…misery.”

“I can see that now. At the time…I only knew keeping him happy made my life a bit easier. His wrath was terrible. All of his slaves knew that and we strove to gain his affection. It wasn’t until I was left on Seheron that I glimpsed what life _could_ be like. Killing them at his order…the guilt is what caused me to flee. What made me want to live free.”

“I think I understand.”

“May I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.”

“You said that you’ve always been a trouble maker. Why do other mages accept what you have always hated?”

“The circle is all some mages know. The youngest child at the Tower when I arrived was five. She wouldn’t remember anything of her parents or her short life outside the Tower. I was twelve when my magic manifested. I remember my mother. I remember playing in the woods with my friends. I remember helping in the fields, tending sheep, sitting by the hearth with a hot cup of tea listening to stories on cold snowy nights.

“I was locked in the cellar after accidentally setting the barn on fire. Two days later I was led from the village in chains and taken to Kinloch Hold. No more playing. No more woods. No more sheep. Instead I get stuck in a big room with many others, days full of classes and Templars always looking over your shoulder or following you down the hall. Breakfast is at eight sharp and if you miss it not only do you go hungry until lunch you have at least three people, usually Templars, grilling you on why you missed it. I knew what had been taken away and I wanted it back.”

“What of the ages in between?”

“Some accepted the circle and others didn’t. There were orphans who quite literally had nowhere else to go. There were also people similar to Hawke, only captured. Forcibly torn from loving families. No matter your background we don’t deserve to be locked up and abused.”

Thoughtful silence fell between them. Fenris could already see many similarities between him and Anders. He would think no more on this tonight however. Hawke was already at the Hanged Man and he’d promised to go as well as convince Anders to relax for a night.

“Come to the Hanged Man with me,” Fenris said standing.

“I don’t have any coin to lose,” said Anders shaking his head.

“You’ve been busy,” he said moving to sit next to him. “Even you don’t have endless energy.”

Anders looked over, half of his mouth turning up in a smile. “All right.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Past Rape/Non-Con**

They had arrived back at Anders’ clinic fairly late after a jaunt to Sundermount with Hawke and Sebastian. Anders had spent most of the trip either in heated discussion with the archer or trying to ignore him altogether. Fenris had remained silent throughout most of it, walking up front with Hawke who looked extremely uncomfortable with the conversations behind him. One of them had stuck in Fenris’ mind, the one that had begun all of them.

Anders claimed to have been fortunate, that he’d never been beaten or raped. Fenris knew enough of his history to know he’d skirted a few things. Technically he hadn’t lied. Being beaten was very different from being whipped. It was the other half Fenris had been wondering about. He’d gotten the impression from their conversations and listening in on conversations with others that Anders had been rather free with his body. Had there been similar situations where a single word could make such a difference? He’d decided to ask long before they actually made it back to Kirkwall.

Fenris locked the doors of the clinic behind him and watched Anders sit heavily on one of the cots. He bent to his boots and Fenris stepped forward to place his sword on the cot closest to the door. When his gauntlets had also been removed he sat next to Anders who had one boot off and was working on the other.

“How often do Templars force themselves on mages?” he asked softly.

“Even once is too often,” Anders replied bitterly as he sat up. “It happens in the Gallows a lot more than it did in the Tower.”

“How did you manage to avoid it?” Fenris said after a moment.

“I discovered that willingly lifting your skirts kept some Templars uninterested. It also gave me some protection from the worst Templars because the others didn’t want me…spoiled.” Anders smiled at him as he worked his coat off. “So yes I’ve had sex with Templars but no, I wasn’t raped.” His smile turned to a small thoughtful frown. “Although…”

Anders placed his coat next to him on the cot and stood. He paced in front of Fenris for a moment, frowning, lost in thought. Fenris cleared his throat knowing the mage was ill at ease.

“If you would prefer not to discuss it…”

“I’m…all right,” Anders said stopping in front of him. “That whole bloody year was an unending nightmare and I try not to think of it too often but…you’ve seen the scars. You might as well hear the rest too.”

Fenris pulled his legs up under him and scooted a little further back. Anders straddled the cot and took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze locked on the empty space between them.

“They’d strip me first,” he said quietly. “Then chain me against the wall, wrists and ankles. Over and over I felt that whip. Often so numb with pain I couldn’t feel the blood oozing out of the wounds. When they were done with that…I’d be left there for a while. I’m sure they watched me. Standing there quietly to see if I’d finally turn.

“They couldn’t leave me like that indefinitely. Couldn’t leave the wounds to fester and kill me through infection. That would have been questioned though I doubt seriously any of them would have gotten more than a slap on the wrist. The wards prevented magic, so one of them washed me up, poured a healing potion over me and rubbed it in. Then I was unchained and left to heal.

“After a while though his hands began…wandering…lingering. Months of the whip, a quick cleanup then absolutely nothing until I could sit comfortably again…I encouraged it. I hated being helpless but…I craved the contact.”

“Did it…escalate?” Fenris asked softly after he fell silent.

“Yes. Anything for that brief moment of forgetfulness…to feel human again. Even if it was demeaning. I suppose on some level it was rape but I’ve never thought of it like that. It was simply survival.”

“I understand,” Fenris whispered closing his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them Anders met his gaze. “I’m sorry…” he said apologetically. “I just can’t…”

“Another time,” said Fenris nodding in understanding.

He shifted forms and padded forward quickly. Anders scooped him up and held him closely, kissing the top of his head. They sat like that for a while, his hands running slowly through his fur.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Past Rape/Non-Con**

Neither of them said anything about their ongoing comparison for almost a week. Fenris watched Anders closely and steeled himself for the inevitable continuation. He went to the clinic one night to find Anders sitting on the cot they had deemed their talking spot. Anders gestured wordlessly at the opposite end and Fenris nodded. The clinic doors were locked, his sword placed on a cot and he sat slowly. Like Anders had, Fenris fixed his gaze on the empty space between them.

“I pleasured Danarius often,” Fenris began softly. “I was rather lucky…his appetites were tame in comparison to some things I witnessed. It was common to be…used in the presence of people he trusted. You must understand there was no one he truly trusted. Some who dared not challenge him openly, some he could destroy with the wave of a hand and the ever present sycophants.”

“Not even the Templars are that bold,” Anders said disgustedly. “They just…force you into the nearest empty room.”

“That sort of depravity is fairly common,” Fenris said. “In public he employed my mouth most often. At night in the relative safety of his rooms he’d take his pleasure however he wanted. Me bent over a chair, on my hands and knees atop the bed. Always behind me. He had me over the balcony railing once…used his magic to keep himself hard. I couldn’t sit for a couple of days after that one.”

“You had no choice whatsoever,” said Anders quietly.

“No,” said Fenris looking up at him. “As a slave I was his to do with as he pleased. At the time I was…happy to serve. Glad that I wasn’t forced into servicing every magister that walked through the villa doors. It was during the two weeks with Hadriana that I discovered…just how lucky I was.

“I had witnessed things before hand, someone showing off a particularly obedient slave or sadists that reveled in making their slave scream. No scarring…no lasting damage…those were her restrictions. She knew how to make the markings burn. She…gave me to her desire demon for a day…forced me to pleasure her. She would bind my arms and legs and leave me in the middle of her rooms with various…objects…forced into my arse when she had other things to attend to.

“I endured those two weeks. Followed her every direction knowing that I if I hadn’t…he would be even more displeased.”

“Maker’s Breath,” he said in a horrified whisper.

“I…cannot speak of this more…” Fenris said shaking his head.

Fenris shifted forms and huddled miserably on the cot. After a moment he felt fingers tentatively stroking his back. When Anders encountered no resistance his strokes grew confident, gradually coaxing Fenris to his lap. For a long while he simply sat there, soaking up the affection while he buried memories.

He didn’t protest when he was lifted and cradled. Fenris watched from the safety of his arms as Anders blew out candles and lanterns. It was only after he lay in the darkness, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath him, still feeling those talented hands occasionally, that he realized he was truly safe with this mage. These fingers would never hurt. The man attached to those fingers would never force him to remain. Anders would never order him to do anything he didn’t want to. As dissimilar as they were, the things that they had suffered weren’t.

“I think we could exchange painful memories for months,” Anders said softly after a while. “And we’d still have more to tell.”

His hand ran along Fenris’ flank as he raised his head to see the mage looking at him. He mewed softly.

“I’m satisfied. I don’t want to relive anymore things I’d rather forget. I’ve realized something after tonight…I don’t want you to have to go through any of it again either. This is difficult for me to admit but…I care about you.”

Fenris stood and rubbed their cheeks together.

“If you like, we can continue on as we have been or we could see where a…relationship between us might go. There’s no need to decide now. Take as much time as you need. Just…know that I’d…really like it if you agreed.”

Fingers ran down his back and along his side as he settled back down on his chest, ear over his heart. Fenris fell asleep listening to that steady heartbeat, finally understanding what had drawn him back here again and again. He already knew his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ending that crept up on me. I'm really glad to have this finished however. Not sure I could take much more. =/
> 
> Thank you for reading. =)


End file.
